MEETING YOUNG JOSEPH STALIN
by Alliando
Summary: Are you tired of learning about Stalin and how he starved millions of his own people and ruthlessly dictated Russia? Are you being forced to write a bloody essay about it when you really dont give a shit? Then come procrastinate with us! But first look up young Stalin on google images, be amazed at his beauty and then come read this fanfic!


**Hi everyone! This is a story brought to you by ***** and The spy when ***** could not be bothered doing her essay and decided to gawk at young Stalin's incredible hotness. Please google young stalin and you will get what I mean and the purpose of this tale that all started on facebook chat. **

It all started like this.

I see him from across the Starbucks café. He's reading poetry, sipping at his espresso. I blush; I mean who reads _POETRY_ in public?  
I watch him, taking side glances from the corner of my eye as he readjusts his scarf underneath his suit. His hair was so luscious, it looked so soft. His facial hair matched perfectly with it. What's his name? I wonder. After about 10 minutes of simply stealing glances, he seemed to get tired of my peeking and he stood up. I jumped in surprise, bowing my head in embarrassment.

He makes his way over to my table and I flush.  
"What's your name?"  
It's a low, baritone sound; I wouldn't mind hearing that in bed.

"A-ah..." I stutter, thrown by his rich sexy voice. "It's..."  
He smiles, and I swoon.

**The Spy:** _OOKKK JUST STOP RIGHT THERE_

_XD_

**Narrator:** _HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_

_You want to continue?_

**The Spy: **

He steals a look at my chest and I blush even harder 'omg he wants my boobs o.0' thought I.  
'A-ah...***** is it?'

**Narrator:** _HAHAHAHAH_

It was then I realised he was looking at my nametag

**Narrator**: _HAHAHHA WHAT I DINT HAVE A NAME TAG_

Awkward penguins were running through my mind

**The Spy:** _Well it's not like u have boobs either. _

**Narrator**: =_=

**The Spy:** _So now u have both ok just role with it_

Again, dem vocal chords completely threw me off. Like literally, I fell over and hit my head on a table. The last thing I heard before slipping into unconsciousness was 'this beautiful lady is not well someone call an ambulance!'

**Narrator**: _talk about his poetry :'ad_

**The Spy:** _HOSPITAL SCENE GO._

_(He can read her poetry on the bed side)_

_(Then they can do dirty things ON the bed)_

My eyes flutter open, only to widen as the first thing I see is that mysterious man from Starbucks at by bedside. Unconsciously I grip his silk scarf and stare into his eyes; they were like dark pools which I could fall into and never come out.

"Ah-" I come to a realization on what I was doing and loosen my grip. "-Sorry!" He blinks a bit, before smiling and moving back onto the bed. "...Did I faint?"  
The sex god nodded, he seemed to find it humorous. I ducked my head in embarrassment.  
"My name's Stalin by the way. Joseph Stalin."

"Oh…Nice to meet you."  
I smile nervously in reply.  
Sex god Stalin moves over to the bedside table and picks up his poetry book.

**Narrator:** _Your turn?_

**The Spy: **

He opened it, drew a dazzling breath, and began to recite. I almost fainted again as dat sexy voice started up, but I had a deep (sexual. Lol JKS) urge to actually hear what he was reading. I focused on those perfect lips as they opened:

**Narrator:** _SO SENSUAL_

_AHHHH_

**The Spy**_**:**__ WAIT TILL I GET TO THE POETRY_

**Narrator:** _HAHAHAH IT'S LIKE WE'RE WRITING FANFICTION_

**The Spy: **

'The riverside is peaceful, the birds sing their sweet songs  
The spontaneous harmony of nature  
Yet something is missing.  
The water is clear and scented with purity

Yet something is lacking  
A perfect day a perfect scene

But all I can think of is the missing piece

Through all my life, through all my sin... I felt the absence of a presence

That was before I found

.."

'You.'

Narrator: _*cries hysterically*_

**The Spy:** _LOL JOKES HE FOUND THE PICNIC BASKET_

_Anyways- _

Narrator: _NO HE FOUND ME_

**The Spy: **

His last word hung in the air like sweet honey clings to a spoon.

He turned the page to read another

**The Spy: **

"The air-"  
**"SHUT UP AND TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF!"**

I found myself yelling.

It just came out.

I did not think on it

**Narrator:** _We made passionate love on the hospital bed and the nurses came in horrified but then aroused hahahahaha_

**The Spy:**

In a hot flush of embarrassment, my eyes widened in disbelief at what I just said

**The Spy:** _That comes later lawll_

_K u take over while I get back to he_

_Hw*_

**Narrator**: _young Stalin can screw me anyday hahahha_

Stalin looked momentarily stunned at my outburst. A slow pink tinge made its way to his cheeks, lighting up his features and enhancing them more if that was even possible.

"A-ah..." he looked a bit awkward, but I had meant every word.

"Recite sweet poetry into my ear when you're bare."

_"oh my god I just met you_

_And this is cray cray_

_but here's a condom_

_So screw me maybe?_

His eyes fluttered shut, his eyelashes were so long. "One condition."

I tilted my head, apprehensive. What could this condition be? I already had a woman boner.

"Let me Instagram this first."

I looked at him, dumbfounded. "That's it?"

"Yeah...I still haven't uploaded the picture of my coffee too." his perfectly shaped eyebrow furrowed.  
He averted his eyes suddenly in embarrassment. "You see...I'm a hipster…" he trailed off.

'As you can see by my hipster scarf underneath my suit…and my badass poetry… and this perfect ratio of facial hair and conditioner…_Oh god the hair conditioner! _I use_ Pantene_.'

I gasp. _That's why his hair was so fabulously silky…_

'I read poetry. In public.'

I nod and smile to myself. 'I know.'

He gives a resigned sigh. 'And… I need to confess.'

My eyes widen. 'What?'

'I'm not what you think I am.'

I give a nervous laugh. 'What, are you going to confess that you're an alien? A transvestite? No no let me guess… You're a to be evil communist dictator who killed millions of people in his own country to gain economic power? '

'No. Well you got the last one right but that's not it.'

'Huh. Lucky guess.' I say.

He lifts his sexy chin upwards.

'_**I am…the original hipster.' **_

I gasp. 'T-the original hipster?'

'I started…The Hipster Revolution.'

I could hear my heartbeat throbbing against my chest, my breaths were becoming shallow.

Young Stalin pressed his hands to his heart. 'I never meant to. I-I..Everyone started copying me. Fangirls, left and right…Their boyfriends grew jealous. Mainstream, the one thing holding us together as a nation, as society, they broke off. They started becoming what they called Hipster.

'You see, they started copying everything. My fashion sense, they went and wove scarves and wore them with hideous _neon shirts_.'

I walked over to comfort him, but he brushed me away and continued.

'They even copied my reading glasses, but since they couldn't see with the frames in they took them out. How could I live…Tell me.'

Stalin was shaking, so was I.

_Something so cruel… _

'And before I knew it…'

He looked at me and teardrops began to fall.

'_**Hipster had become mainstream**_.'

**HOW WILL ***** AND YOUNG JOSEPH STALIN DESTROY THE TREND THAT IS CORRPUTING OUR COUNTRY?! REVIEW AND FIND OUT **

**Disclaimer: This fic is no way related to the real dictator joseph stalin so please don't kill me haha this is young stalin in his 20'30s when he was hot. **

NOW GO BACK AND STUDY


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